While men grow bold in wicked ways,

And yet a God they own,

My heart within me often says,

"Their thoughts believe there's none."

Their thoughts and ways at once declare,

Whate'er their lips profess,

God hath no wrath for them to fear,

Nor will they seek his grace.

What strange self-flatt'ry blinds their eyes!

But there's a hast'ning hour,

When they shall see with sore surprise

The terrors of thy power.

Thy justice shall maintain its throne,

Though mountains melt away;

Thy judgments are a world unknown,

A deep, unfathomed sea.

Above the heav'ns' created rounds,

Thy mercies, Lord, extend;

Thy truth outlives the narrow bounds

Where time and nature end.

Safety to man thy goodness brings,

Nor overlooks the beast;

Beneath the shadow of thy wings

Thy children choose to rest.

[From thee, when creature-streams run low.

And mortal comforts die,

Perpetual springs of life shall flow,

And raise our pleasures high.

Though all created light decay,

And death close up our eyes,

Thy presence makes eternal day,

Where clouds can never rise.]